tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30906165924875058392018-03-05T13:19:10.536-05:00Kristina SmithKristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3090616592487505839.post-38326039413308329372010-05-29T11:53:00.003-04:002010-05-29T12:07:17.538-04:00Hey' Y'all!<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/TAE4q7qMtUI/AAAAAAAAALU/qI2uNl53MU0/s1600/11_Smith.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 386px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/TAE4q7qMtUI/AAAAAAAAALU/qI2uNl53MU0/s400/11_Smith.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476720932079580482" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"Tongue-Tied" from the series <i>Love and Loss, </i>Color Photograph, 12 x 12", 2008</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Hey Y'all! I've been practicing this, since I will be going to Texas Woman's University in the fall!!! I'm sooo, sooo excited. And terrified. But mostly excited... I've even been having ideas lately. Photographic series ideas!! WHHAAAAT? Yes. Photo ideas. I've been at a major road block for like, idk, the last 3 years! </div><div><br /></div><div>So anyway, The whole "Hey Y'all" thing sounds really weird coming out of my mouth. But not any weirder than saying "Yins". (Which is a Northeast Ohio/ But mostly a Western Pennsylvania thing.) Sooo, I've been trying to get things situated and what not. Like how am I getting down there? Where am I going to live? How exactly am I going to pay for this? You know, all of the pressing questions of the universe... Oh, and I got a GA position. That's a Graduate Assistantship!!! I'm going to be the "Black and White Lab/ Computer Lab Co-Manager." So, it will probably be very similar to the type of work that I did as an undergrad, as the "Photo Lab Assistant." </div>Kristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3090616592487505839.post-60182891957080716102010-04-22T11:21:00.002-04:002010-04-22T11:44:49.039-04:00Decisions... Decisions...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S9BqRll5toI/AAAAAAAAALM/eCCJfQPO3TM/s1600/50_Smith.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 391px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S9BqRll5toI/AAAAAAAAALM/eCCJfQPO3TM/s400/50_Smith.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462983198381815426" /></a><br /><div>When I applied for graduate school, I applied to 8 different programs. With the hope that maybe, just maybe, one program would want me. I never in my wildest dreams thought that I would have multiple programs, (let alone my top 5!!) clamoring for my admission. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I first heard this news, I was extremely elated. It was not something that I had planned on, but I was thrilled... But it was, (and still is), very weird and uncomfortable to say aloud. You see, I'm a pretty private person, and am quite humble, and all of this attention and everyones questions make me rather uncomfortable... And on top of this, I am a worrisome, stress prone individual who is completely incapable of making decisions... Especially easy ones, like "what's for dinner"... </div><div><br /></div><div>So I started the narrowing down process... And I was left with my top 2 schools. RIT and TWU. (Rochester Institute of Technology and Texas Women's University) RIT is one of the top programs in the country. It has unbelievable facilities and resources and faculty. But it is a large program and it is in Rochester so there is a lot of snow! TWU on the other hand has been my number 1 choice for probably 5 years now. I feel like this is the program that is better suited to my needs, personality, and to the work that I make. And I have always felt this deep connection to Texas. My gymnastics coach growing up, Donneanne Mason, was from Texas. My advisor, professor, mentor, and all-around favorite person, Mike Moseley was also from Texas. My favorite photography professor and mentor, who I have learned so much from, and I credit with helping me to find my voice, Kelli Connell, was from Texas. And is a TWU alum. And this is just scratching the surface.... I don't know why I'm even going back and forth. I've already decided in my head where I'm going. And that's Texas. Denton, Texas. So I need to start practicing my Hey Y'all...</div>Kristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3090616592487505839.post-74228985235956390922010-02-22T00:48:00.003-05:002010-02-22T01:07:22.531-05:00More B.F.A. show images<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4Ichi5k-II/AAAAAAAAAKs/LSbVJafVfV0/s1600-h/15_Smith.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4Ichi5k-II/AAAAAAAAAKs/LSbVJafVfV0/s400/15_Smith.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440942662446545026" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4Ichi5k-II/AAAAAAAAAKs/LSbVJafVfV0/s1600-h/15_Smith.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Here are some detail shots from my B.F.A. installation, "Love, Loss, and What Remains: The Things I Couldn't Say Aloud,"</span></a> that I just found on my external hard drive. The show was from Spring of 2008.<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4Ichi5k-II/AAAAAAAAAKs/LSbVJafVfV0/s1600-h/15_Smith.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IchBByDhI/AAAAAAAAAKk/0_BTJ77rS8g/s1600-h/16_Smith.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IchBByDhI/AAAAAAAAAKk/0_BTJ77rS8g/s400/16_Smith.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440942653354151442" /></a><br /></div><div>You can see the drawings a little better now.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IcgnrLRDI/AAAAAAAAAKc/4umaS5ruc-U/s1600-h/181_Smith.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IcgnrLRDI/AAAAAAAAAKc/4umaS5ruc-U/s400/181_Smith.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440942646548448306" /></a><br /></div><div>And I had little "secrets" hidden all throughout the installation. Most of them were things that my boyfriend and I had said to each other, or texted to each other. Or things that I never said, but wanted to. There were also some poignant song lyrics thrown in for good measure. I keep them written in my moleskin notebook, and carry it with me always.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IcgGrPaTI/AAAAAAAAAKU/EdCxcsHQ8Gw/s1600-h/250_Smith.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IcgGrPaTI/AAAAAAAAAKU/EdCxcsHQ8Gw/s400/250_Smith.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440942637690349874" /></a><i><br /></i></div></div></div>Kristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3090616592487505839.post-6482122697692340842010-02-21T23:59:00.006-05:002010-02-22T00:32:03.778-05:00Graduate School aka 3 a.m. panic attacks<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IPitz_fQI/AAAAAAAAAJs/HaMvGLqGf-Y/s1600-h/12_Smith.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IPitz_fQI/AAAAAAAAAJs/HaMvGLqGf-Y/s400/12_Smith.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440928388904615170" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"Assurance" from the series </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Love and Loss. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Digital photograph, 11 x 14". 2009</span></span></span></div></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For the better part of the last 4 or 5 years, I've been kicking around the idea of graduate school. Should I go? Or should I not go? Maybe I'll work for a while and then go back to school? What do I even want to do with my life? And so on, and so forth...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So last January when I finally decided that, "Yes. I do indeed want to do this." I had </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">inadvertently</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> missed most of the application deadlines. So I had to wait until next year to apply. (or this year. Depending how you look at it.) So I began getting myself ready. Editing photos. Writing. Researching schools and programs and grants and financial aid and stalking </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">facebook</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> friends that I've made at S.P.E. conferences and asking their thoughts on their schools particular programs. And I was almost ready by the time deadlines began to lurk around the corner... And then it happened. The great computer crash of 2009. My poor 6 year old </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">MacBook</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Pro (which has always ran rather hot) began running very hot and started smoking... The hard drive was no more... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deadlines were right around the corner, and I had lost </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">everything... FML...</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> It was hard. But I went down to the university and used their computer labs and busted my ass and redid it all. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wanted to apply to at least 5 schools. And I ended up applying to 8 total. Hopefully one of them will decide that I am indeed worthy and will pick me. And maybe offer me a teaching </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">assistantship</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and/or stipend! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Here's to keeping my fingers crossed... (And to hoping that I don't scare anyone away by talking about this!)</span></div></div>Kristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3090616592487505839.post-3486039630184848492010-02-21T23:34:00.003-05:002010-02-22T00:29:49.319-05:00Corpus Albicans<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IKfT9cJ-I/AAAAAAAAAJk/m8oWLueJhfs/s1600-h/190.Smith_Corpus.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IKfT9cJ-I/AAAAAAAAAJk/m8oWLueJhfs/s320/190.Smith_Corpus.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440922832867174370" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"Corpus Albicans" Installation, latex, rubber, wax. Approx. 4x6'. 2008</span> </div></span><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span>A while back, I had this MRI done and they found these cysts in my spinal cord called <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Syrinx</span>, </i>which are kind of scary in the "you could totally be paralyzed one day kind of way", so anyway. These "cysts," <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(which are actually fluid filled cavities,)</span> got me thinking about the problems with ovarian cysts that I've had since I started to become "womanly." And more specifically, it made me think about the tissue that remains inside of you after the cyst ruptures. It sounds pretty gross. But I remember having an ultrasound done <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(or maybe it was a sonogram? I don't really remember exactly.)</span> when I was 16 or 17, and the remains of the ruptured cyst were quite beautiful. So without sounding like my mom <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">OBGYN</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> nurse)</span>, Corpus <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Albicans</span> is basically the blood and tissue that remains after a cyst on your Corpus <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Luteum</span> ruptures. <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>At this point, I had begun working with latex and wax. And I began making these cyst-like vessels. The<i> </i>shape is more consistent with the <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Syrinx</span>, </i>but I had both the <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Syrinx</span></i> and the <i>Corpus <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Albicans</span> </i>in mind when I was creating this piece. This piece incorporated some familiar themes from my photographs, such as <i>emptiness</i> and <i>what remains</i>. This time, in a more literal representation than a metaphorical one. </div><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IKfKMghTI/AAAAAAAAAJc/eNjIAXj6sLQ/s1600-h/200.Smith_Corpus+detail.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IKfKMghTI/AAAAAAAAAJc/eNjIAXj6sLQ/s320/200.Smith_Corpus+detail.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440922830246020402" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small; white-space: pre; "><div style="text-align: center;">"Corpus Albicans" Installation detail, latex, rubber, wax. Approx. 4x6'. 2008</div></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On a side note: A lot of people look at this piece and immediately think "sausages". </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hmm</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...</span></div></div></div>Kristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3090616592487505839.post-67381446423881094912009-03-31T22:54:00.002-04:002010-02-22T01:24:38.751-05:00Multiple Perspectives<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IhBsInE7I/AAAAAAAAALE/E6eiblT1E2s/s1600-h/17_Smith.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IhBsInE7I/AAAAAAAAALE/E6eiblT1E2s/s400/17_Smith.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440947612727841714" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"Viscera" Installation. Charcoal. Graphite. Approx. 10 x 40'. 2008</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div>These images are from a show entitled "Multiple Perspectives." It was at the Art Outreach Gallery in Niles, Ohio.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IhBLTZzOI/AAAAAAAAAK8/xlSs2HdMKZ8/s1600-h/110.outreach2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IhBLTZzOI/AAAAAAAAAK8/xlSs2HdMKZ8/s400/110.outreach2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440947603914738914" /></a><br /></div><div>My former painting professor Dragana Crnjak had put this show together. It included work from advanced painting students and advanced sculpture students, some art ed kids, and a few alumni. (Like ME!)</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IhAh-HyvI/AAAAAAAAAK0/CFsG2bqZ-3A/s1600-h/18_Smith.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/S4IhAh-HyvI/AAAAAAAAAK0/CFsG2bqZ-3A/s400/18_Smith.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440947592819624690" /></a><br />How weird is it to say <i>Alumni? </i>It makes me feel old... lol</div>Kristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3090616592487505839.post-36946959953405383322009-03-23T16:51:00.004-04:002009-03-23T17:40:15.156-04:00Love, Loss and What Remains: The Things I Couldn't Say Aloud<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/Scf6K-zlY8I/AAAAAAAAAH4/jhWk1EW0HF0/s1600-h/IMG_0403.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/Scf6K-zlY8I/AAAAAAAAAH4/jhWk1EW0HF0/s320/IMG_0403.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316492951699153858" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/Scf6KEZ-nDI/AAAAAAAAAHw/4q5KichPvHc/s1600-h/IMG_0409.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/Scf6KEZ-nDI/AAAAAAAAAHw/4q5KichPvHc/s320/IMG_0409.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316492936022498354" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/Scf6JL63W6I/AAAAAAAAAHo/BfIxWrk06wk/s1600-h/IMG_0417.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/Scf6JL63W6I/AAAAAAAAAHo/BfIxWrk06wk/s320/IMG_0417.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316492920859614114" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/Scf6HyeCOjI/AAAAAAAAAHg/IMB6ORCFdJo/s1600-h/IMG_0422.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/Scf6HyeCOjI/AAAAAAAAAHg/IMB6ORCFdJo/s320/IMG_0422.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316492896847936050" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>This is my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">BFA</span> show. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Entitled</span>, "Love, Loss and What Remains: The Things I Couldn't Say Aloud." It ran May 2-16, 2008 at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">McDonough</span> Museum of Art in Youngstown, Ohio. <div><br /></div><div>Artist Statement:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The majority of the work that I do is a direct reflection of myself. My work explores varying degrees of intimacy and personal insight.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The installation, "Love, Loss, and What Remains: The Things I couldn't Say Aloud" is based upon memories and experiences that I have gathered from relationships over the years. The images document a distance that has developed, a void. Through the photographs, the distance is represented as a metaphor for what is missing. These images document emotions that I have felt, experiences that I have experienced, situations that I have witnessed, and all of the things that were left unsaid. These images evoke a sense of love and loss, showing how it can affect a space, and also how it can affect a figure in that space.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In this work, I am trying to show what remains. What is left of the body, of your emotions, and your outlook on the world after a trauma or tragedy. What is left when the ground beneath you has been pulled out from under you and your sense of normalcy has subsided, having shaken you violently awake.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have also been interested in the body. How it works, what it looks like. How the body is this impressionable surface, much like our minds. That every event can leave an impression upon it's facade. How the impressions may be internal or external, but either way, leave the body scarred. The clay and latex remnants are acting as metaphors for the body. They are what is left of the body and your innards after your sense of normalcy has been removed. The loss in this work isn't necessarily something tangible, but possibly intangible.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In this work, I am trying to make visible the invisible.<br /></span></div><div><br /></div>Kristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3090616592487505839.post-61986271676641668932009-03-22T18:13:00.007-04:002009-03-22T18:54:19.850-04:00Fred Wilson<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/ScbAqamu7qI/AAAAAAAAAGg/VH71pfqKXnw/s1600-h/blurryfred.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/ScbAqamu7qI/AAAAAAAAAGg/VH71pfqKXnw/s320/blurryfred.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316148245086269090" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/Sca4q7Xg2XI/AAAAAAAAAGY/kqkQE6zKGB8/s1600-h/08fredwilsonpittcp.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/Sca4q7Xg2XI/AAAAAAAAAGY/kqkQE6zKGB8/s320/08fredwilsonpittcp.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316139457787779442" /></a> I'm late again with this stuff... Like a year late... This was March 19th... 2008...<div><br /></div><div>Ok. So Youngstown State University, the tiny, tiny university that it is, somehow got Fred Wilson to come and be apart of the SKEGGS lecture series. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(Ok. Backstory. The Skeggs family donated a crapload of money to be used to get famous important people to come to YSU and give lectures. And it bounces around from department to department, so every year someone gets a turn. And then there's a committee to pick a person and blah blah blah...) Oh and this year we got Cornell West. And that was amazing!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div>Ok. So back to my point... So Fred Wilson came and he gave this amazing lecture/ presentation. He's truly a gifted storyteller. It was AMAZING!</div><div><br /></div><div>And well, before all this happened, Fred's people got in contact with the art department at YSU. He wanted to talk to students. Like one on one. So rather than have our faculty tell him, "Talk to so-and-so. They're going places. And don't talk to so-and-so; ie: read- me, she's a waste." He asked for interested students to send 10 slides and an artist statement. And he would <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">personally</span> look at them on his computer and then decide, and pick 4 <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(undergrad) </span>students who he would like to have a studio visit with, based on whose work he personally found interesting and/or compelling. And this was all supposed to happen the day before the lecture... But unfortunately, Mr. Wilson's mother passed away a day or so before the lecture. But he still managed to come and give his presentation, but he left right after. He said he would reschedule the studio visit...</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh and he picked 5 students instead of 4. And one of those 5, was me! Omg. Holy crap. He picked <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">ME</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">!</span> (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">See Greg? I'm not a total waste.) </span>And he did come back the week that I was actually installing my senior show, So I believe it was the 26th or 28th of April (2008). Of course, I wasn't ready. And I had just had this huge relationship breakup/life is over thing going on. But we had a wonderful chat about art. And working practice. And love. And loss... He talked about his mom and I talked about my, er, boyfriend. And it was amazing. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">And you think that I would have taken a picture with this guy? Yeah, what was I thinking. He's like a rockstar in the art world. I mean, he represented the USA in the Venice Biennale... Yeah. Fail. </span>Anyway... Oh and I heard from a little birdie, that he liked my work the best! Holy crap! Oh And... He's friends with Kiki Smith. My idol. And I gave him one of my porcelain remnants, and he said that he would show Kiki! Wow!</div><div><br /></div><div>This was truly one of the most amazing experiences in my undergrad career.</div>Kristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3090616592487505839.post-26892331073373592332009-03-21T13:01:00.000-04:002009-03-21T13:16:53.742-04:00I suck at blogging<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/ScUeXTwQhQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/DjJYWGn-cwY/s1600-h/mockinstallation.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/ScUeXTwQhQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/DjJYWGn-cwY/s320/mockinstallation.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315688320969245954" /></a>So, apparently, I really suck at blogging. I mean, I look at blogs all the time... (Actually there are a few that I check almost religiously)... But I just never really get the urge to update mine. Maybe it's because I'm an idiot, and I titled it 'kristinasmithPHOTO' when I really don't consider myself a photographer. And I really haven't shot anything in a very long time... although I just started again, but more about that later. It's not like I don't have time for it, now that I've graduated, and yep, once again, I missed the deadline for grad school... But enough mindless babble. I'm going to try and update a lil bit of what I have been up to in the past year or so. <div><br /></div><div>So this (umm the photo. duh) is a mock up installation of my graduating show. A sketch if you will. I did this almost a year ago today. So sometime in late March, early April of 2008... It's ok. Not what I was wanting, but you really don't know that until you start putting things up on the wall and try to create a new context for it. It's a lot different than just matting and framing and hanging and measuring, hmm 60" is center... so well. Here ya go. Enjoy!</div>Kristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3090616592487505839.post-6732547831371036342008-11-16T14:12:00.000-05:002008-11-16T14:28:20.292-05:00Hello again winter...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/SSBxBlgzXSI/AAAAAAAAAF4/sv5ZHd-F028/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/SSBxBlgzXSI/AAAAAAAAAF4/sv5ZHd-F028/s320/photo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269335836086983970" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">(Alright, so before you start judging my photo skills, this is taken with my camera phone on a whim, so the snow is a bit hard to see)<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This day always saddens me. The first snow of the season.</div><div><br /></div><div> I know, I know. I've lived in north east Ohio my entire life and I should be accustomed to this already. My childhood has been riddled with memories of trick-or-treating with snow suits and boots. Buying costumes three sizes to big to fit over parkas. Festive mittens and hats with only a tiny bit of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">discernable</span> face paint poking through... Anyway. It's now November. Mid November. November 16<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> to be exact. So I guess the snow is a little late this year. And it should be expected, but it still makes me sad.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been holding on to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">hoodies</span> and ballet flats without socks for too long I guess. I know global warming is horrible, and the plight of the oceans, and the polar bears and what not. But I have to say, I do enjoy the warmer weather. I know that makes me a bad person, but my body hates the cold. My knees and achy joints have been letting me know, "Ya. Winter is totally here. Prepare to suffer." So I guess I just need to suck it up. And dust off the winter coat, and find what the hell I did with my ice scraper, because it's going to be a long one.</div>Kristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3090616592487505839.post-63905765173385687502008-02-12T11:05:00.000-05:002008-12-10T11:24:36.539-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMWbGc69I/AAAAAAAAADY/bC6bTE6rgCo/s1600-h/1.+Presence.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMWbGc69I/AAAAAAAAADY/bC6bTE6rgCo/s200/1.+Presence.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166134933174676434" /></a>Presence<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMWrGc6-I/AAAAAAAAADg/8pP07ZgOGBE/s1600-h/2.+Absence.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMWrGc6-I/AAAAAAAAADg/8pP07ZgOGBE/s200/2.+Absence.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166134937469643746" /></a>Absence<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMXLGc6_I/AAAAAAAAADo/PPdgMMOtjHs/s1600-h/3.+Waiting.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMXLGc6_I/AAAAAAAAADo/PPdgMMOtjHs/s200/3.+Waiting.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166134946059578354" /></a>Waiting<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMXbGc7AI/AAAAAAAAADw/Lg6qzXBKgTw/s1600-h/5.+Longing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMXbGc7AI/AAAAAAAAADw/Lg6qzXBKgTw/s200/5.+Longing.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166134950354545666" /></a>Longing<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMX7Gc7BI/AAAAAAAAAD4/N-c8CM2VJ3w/s1600-h/7.+Alone.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMX7Gc7BI/AAAAAAAAAD4/N-c8CM2VJ3w/s200/7.+Alone.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166134958944480274" /></a>Alone<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HL_LGc65I/AAAAAAAAAC4/oDASr_KmZtE/s1600-h/03_scar.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HL_LGc65I/AAAAAAAAAC4/oDASr_KmZtE/s200/03_scar.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166134533742717842" /></a>Scar<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HL_rGc66I/AAAAAAAAADA/_7tPnk3MEiA/s1600-h/01_constellation.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HL_rGc66I/AAAAAAAAADA/_7tPnk3MEiA/s200/01_constellation.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166134542332652450" /></a>Constellation<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HL_7Gc67I/AAAAAAAAADI/MK6-y8TTn7A/s1600-h/10.+Damages.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HL_7Gc67I/AAAAAAAAADI/MK6-y8TTn7A/s200/10.+Damages.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166134546627619762" /></a>Damages<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMArGc68I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Oadp81FvPHI/s1600-h/9.+Static.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HMArGc68I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Oadp81FvPHI/s200/9.+Static.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166134559512521666" /></a>Static<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vA8X8E0MeHM/R7HEiLGc6lI/AAAAAAAAAAY/EtAwbkCB64o/s1600-h/1.+Presence.jpg"><br /></a>Kristina Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00453484122845268554noreply@blogger.com0